


Little Mary, Mary Quite Contrary

by niggletsune



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Recreational Drug Use, stoner wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:10:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2131422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niggletsune/pseuds/niggletsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles try weed for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Mary, Mary Quite Contrary

 

            The first time Stiles did it was at a party with Scott was the summer before their sophomore year.

            Some kid a grade up, who Stiles and Scott didn’t know, was throwing a party and they got invited by someone in Coach’s class who also didn’t know the kid. Basically, the party was a rager. They’d gone down to the basement because that’s where someone told Stiles beer pong was being played, he wanted to hone up on his beer pong skills. Girls thought a guy being good at beer pong was hot, or at least that was the way it seemed for the all seniors good at beer pong, but whatever. Stiles didn’t really care about what other girls thought, he cared about what Lydia thought. Lydia liked Jackson and like everything else, Jackson was good at beer pong so Stiles had to be good at beer pong.

            Scott and Stiles, respectively, took the stairs into the basement and walked into a cloud that smelled something pungent; a mix between skunk and herbs. Scott turned and widened his eyes at Stiles. “You smell that, right?” Stiles asked.

Scott nodded. “I smelled it all the way outside.”

Stiles looked to the left where beer pong was being played by a couple of douched up seniors, including Jackson and his minions. He then looked to the right where there was a smoke circle going on. There were about four or five students from Beacon Hills High, passing around what was clearly a joint and something else that was a long glass pipe, ending in a deep circle at the bottom; a bong. Stiles watched Nathan Keats pass the bong to Alissa Meyer from his foreign language class and saw the water slosh lazily at the bottom of the bowl.

            “You wanna try, Stilinski?” Alissa raised an amused brow with a smirk on her face. Stiles took in her petite figure, donned in tight jeans, maroon tank top, and leather jacket. Her face was framed with dark brown hair, as dark as Stiles’, and tucked under a burgundy beanie to help keep it out of her face.

Stiles looked at Scott, both of their mouths agape. He then looked back to Alissa. “I, uh. Um-,” he didn’t know what to say. Alissa was hot. Stiles needed to make out with someone and she was definitely someone he could make out with. “I’m fine.”

Alissa flashed him a smile and laughed. “C’mon, Stiles. Here, you can take one of my hits every time it’s my turn. And Scott here can take one of Kenny’s here. Right Kenny? We work in a system of puff, puff, pass.” Alissa looked at the guy to her left.

            “Sure, whatever.” Kenny said lazily.

            “See! Everybody’s happy. I take a puff, you take a puff and then pass. Simple. What do you say?”

Stiles looked to his side at Scott and they started going back in forth in hushed tones.

            “We cannot smoke weed.” Scott said immediately.

            “We can if we want to,” Stiles looked around. “I mean it really is up to us. What can it hurt to try it?”

            “I have asthma.” Scott whined.

Stiles shook his head. “Dude, I read somewhere that marijuana actually helps with asthma. It can’t hurt to try right?”

            “No.” Scott said.

            “I don’t want to.”

Stiles sighed and placed a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “I’m not going to pressure you, but we need friends. Smoking cements friendships. It’s a bonding experience, but if you don’t want to then fine, we won’t.”

            “Any day now boys, the joint’s almost my way and I’m still holding this damn thing.” Alissa chimed in, raising the bong in her hands slightly.

Scott huffed and stuffed his fists into his sweatshirt pockets, uncomfortable. “Fine.”

Stiles beamed and he and Scott hopped on the couch. Alissa had to push herself close to Stiles, but he didn’t mind.

            “Okay, so you’re new at this. Obviously. I feel like it’d be easier if we had a pipe, and we do but we’re not ready to pass another bowl right now so this bong and joint here will have to do. Bong rips are a little harsh on the lungs, but I’m sure you’ll deal. I’ll do everything for you since it’s your first time. All you have to do is inhale, got it?”

Stiles made a confused face. “Not really, no.”

            “Watch me.” Alissa steadied the bong between her thighs, ducked her head down to place her lips at the neck, then flicked her lighter so it illuminated with yellow, orange, and blue flame. Stiles watched as white smoke filled the glass chamber and after a few seconds Alissa pulled the bowl piece out, creating a sound like children blowing bubbles through their straws. He was sitting in a stoner’s circle. Stiles definitely wasn’t a child blowing bubbles anymore. Alissa stopped sucking then held her breath for a little bit longer. In awe, and with a little bit of sexual frustration, Stiles drank in the sight of Alissa letting the smoke flow out of her mouth through her plump, cherry red lips. She then turned and blew it into Stiles’ face. She grinned as she saw the surprise written over Stiles’ features. She raised her brows. “Your turn.”

 

            It burned. It burned like holy fucking hell. Why, why would anyone ever do this to themselves?! Stiles sucked through the bong for maybe four seconds before his chest felt like everything was on fire and he sent himself into a fit of coughing. He couldn’t do it. He could never smoke ever again if he wanted to avoid this feeling. After what felt like a hundred years Stiles finally stopped coughing and turned to look at Scott, shaking his head. But Scott’s mind was already made up. He was in the circle, he had the second puff of Kenny’s puff, puff, pass. He wasn’t going to look like a loser in front of all of these people.

            “It always sucks the first time.” Alissa said and squeezed Stiles’ leg for reassurance. “You’ll be better next time.”

            “I’m not doing that again, oh no!” Stiles said exasperatingly. “That was the depths of hell right there in my lungs.”

Alissa laughed. “But you want to get high right?”

Stiles thought. He’d only seen a few high people and those were in movies. Sure, he’d researched for hours and hours about drugs one Saturday night when he was bored and alone, but he didn’t know much about the actual effect, or at least how it would affect him. All he knew was that the people in the movies always looked like they felt good, Stiles wanted to feel good. So he nodded. “Yeah but-,”

Alissa smiled and shook her head. “I’ll shotgun you from now on, it won’t hurt a bit.” There was something seductive in her eyes but all Stiles did was say yes because a high without the pain sounded alright to him.

            Apparently shot gunning was the act of taking a hit yourself then blowing it into the mouth of the other person. But Stiles didn’t know that. Because if he would’ve known that he would’ve been more excited when Alissa said she’d shot gun him. The joint was passed to her next, sooner than Stiles would’ve been ready for if he were the one smoking. Scott had just gotten done taking his first hit and Stiles was thankful someone remembered Scott had asthma. They told him to use his inhaler right after because **a** : “bro, I heard it gets you higher” and **b** : “bro, it’ll help with the burn.” So Scott didn’t cough nearly as long as Stiles and didn’t have an asthma attack either. Thank God, because Stiles didn’t think he’d want to have to drag Scott outside right now to make him breathe and stuff to get over his asthma attack.

            Stiles examined Alissa put her lipstick lips to the end of the joint and suck, making the cherry glow bright orange. Then, she turned to Stiles without opening her mouth and grabbed his face. Stiles’ eyes were wide as Alissa pressed her lips to his and forced his mouth open with her tongue, then let the smoke pour in.

            “Inhale,” she broke off.

Stiles inhaled quickly then blew out the remains. His heart was hammering in his chest. Holy fucking shit his first kiss ever had been a shot gun kiss. He turned to Scott who sat agape with his eyes wide and brows rose. Alissa smirked at Stiles. “Was that better?”

            Stiles nodded, mesmerized. “Much better.”

            Alissa did it again, and again, and again. Every time it was her turn to smoke she would shot gun Stiles until after a while the joint was out and the bong was cashed and everyone was sufficiently high. Alissa wanted to take Stiles out back and make out for a little while and Stiles was all for it until Scott looked at his phone and realized his curfew ended in like an hour and they still had to walk back.

“Next time.” Alissa smirked and pressed a rough kiss on Stiles’ lips.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah.”

 

            It didn’t hit them until they stood. Then it hit them again as they stumbled up the stairs and pushed themselves through the crowd of people in the living room at the top of the basement. 

            “I am so high.” Stiles said as they began the trek back to Scott’s house.

Scott started laughing then. Once he started laughing he couldn’t stop and then Stiles started laughing as well and they both fell over into the grass in a fit of post smoke giggles.

            “What is even so- funny?” Stiles said in between laughs.

Scott was grabbing his stomach from the pain of laughter. “I don’t know!”

Their laugh attack soon slowed down and they continued to make their way home, but of course had to stop at a breakfast diner because they were starving. Scott and Stiles could’ve ordered everything on the menu, twice, but each stuck to huge breakfast burritos and a pile of hash browns big enough to feed a family of five.

            It wasn’t until Stiles had walked Scott home and dropped him off then started to make his way to his own house that the paranoia settled in. Stiles got out his phone and dialed Scott’s number.

            “Dude, I’m so high.” Scott said from the other line as he threw himself backwards into his bed. He felt so heavy, like he could sleep for an eternity.

            “My dad is home tonight, he’s going to know I’m high. Scott, my dad is the town Sheriff, he’s going to have to send his own son to jail for recreational drug use.”

Scott shot up. “He wouldn’t do that, would he?”

            “I don’t know! I’ve been pretty annoying lately, he might.”

Scott took a breath then told Stiles to do so. “No, he wouldn’t. He’s probably going to be sleeping anyway. Just go in quietly, if he’s up stay far away from him and sprint upstairs. Don’t talk him until the smell of weed is off your clothes and the red is out of your eyes.”

            “He’s going to kill me.” Stiles said. He was at his block now and saw that he was approaching his house. “I should’ve just stayed the night. This is a disaster. My dad is going to send me to jail or ground me for life and I’m so high I don’t know which option is better.”

            “Grounding is better, but it won’t happen if you do what I say.”

Stile stepped on his front porch. “Oh shit, I’m home. I’m home.”

            “Call me when you get upstairs.” Scott hung up.

 

Stiles unlocked the door as quietly as possible, but it was an old house so the door always creaked when you turned the knob and pushed it open.

            “Stiles?” His dad said from the kitchen. Stiles could see the light over the table on and papers scattered all about, his dad had a bottle of Jack Daniel’s sitting next to him, mostly full, thank god.

            “Yeah, daddy-o, it’s me.” Stiles said then shook his head at himself. _Daddy-0?_ Stiles stood ten feet away from his dad and put a hand over his mouth. The giggles were about to come back now that he was being put under pressure.

            “Have a good time, son?”

Stiles nodded. “Mhm.”

The Sheriff looked up. “You going to bed?”

Stiles nodded again. “Yep. Yep. Totally. So tired.”

Sheriff Stilinski gave Stiles a once over and shook his head. “Goodnight then.”

            “Night!” Stiles said then headed to the stairs. Walking up the stairs was like tying five pound bags of flower to your legs and then pulling them around with you everywhere. At one point Stiles really just wanted to get down on his hands and bear crawl, anything to make his legs seem less heavy. When he finally got up the stairs and into his room, he collapsed on the bed, passing out immediately.

***

            After the first time it was all about finding a dealer, but it had to be someone they trusted so they knew it wasn’t laced with anything and that they were getting a good price. So Stiles went to Alissa and she became their dealer right away. She taught them everything they needed to know about smoking. She taught them how to roll both joints and blunts, she taught them how to use a grinder and pack a bowl on water pipes, regular pipes, and Stiles’ personal favorite, the bong. Alissa became their weed guru that summer, and then she moved away. Stiles had to admit, he was a little sad, he might have been a tad bit in love with her, but Scott assured him it was probably just the way she shotgunned him that first night.  After that Scott turned into a werewolf, no thanks to Peter Hale on that one and needed to smoke even more. They had to find a dealer immediately to keep Scott from wolfing out everytime he got pissed, which was often these days. Then Scott started dating Allison, who Stiles loved because she was from San Francisco and knew how to roll a joint like the perfect little stoner.

            “It’s something you learn when your parents are too busy hunting werewolves to pay attention to you,” Allison said one day before she lit up. She sighed happily and sunk backwards into Scott’s bed before passing the joint onto Stiles.

            “Who do you get weed from anyway?” Stiles asked before taking a hit himself.

            “Jackson,” Allison said lazily then turned to start making out with Scott who was more than happy to accept her body being placed ontop of him.

Stiles choked on his hit which had been the end of the joint. He stabbed it out in the tray on Scott’s bedside table. “Jackson Whittemore?!”

            “Mmm-hmm,” Allison said between wet kisses on Scott’s mouth.

Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes. His highs used to be like theirs, when Alissa was in town. They face timed every so often but he hadn’t really talked to her in months. He pushed the thoughts from his mind and stood up slowly, balancing himself on Scott’s bed.

            “You could join?” Allison said before she started giggling.

            “I’m too high for this,” Stiles said before exiting Scott’s room with their bong in tow. He didn’t need a girlfriend; all he needed was a little Mary, Mary Quite Contrary.

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a little fic about Stiles and Scott's first weed encounter for the network I'm in. :)


End file.
